


As the World Falls Down

by KeeperoftheCottage



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Anxiety, Boys Kissing, Canon Related, Canon Universe, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Kissing, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, One Shot, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 03:05:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17014416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeeperoftheCottage/pseuds/KeeperoftheCottage
Summary: Before the Battle of Hogwarts begins, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan struggle to reunite after almost a year apart.





	As the World Falls Down

Dean stands on the threshold of the Room of Requirement. The Room has outdone itself for Dumbledore’s Army, growing into a cavern of comfort with many hammocks and tapestries, bookshelves and broomsticks. He sees all of it over the top of Luna’s blonde head, taking in the bright colors and the eager crowd of students, bruised but defiant, pressing up against the trio Dean last saw at Shell Cottage. Luna says something to Harry, but Dean doesn’t hear her. Instead, he hears:

“DEAN!”

The other boy throws his arms around him and pounds his back so hard Dean might think he was trying to hurt him if he hadn’t seen who it was.

“Hey, Seamus,” he says, bringing his arms up around the other boy’s shoulders to hug him back. Seamus relaxes into the embrace with his face buried in Dean’s shirt. Dean feels his pounding fists turn into fingers digging into his shoulder blades as Seamus hangs onto him. There’s a moment where they’re both clinging to each other, and then they hear Luna’s voice.

“We’re going to fight them out of Hogwarts?”

Seamus pulls back. Dean’s arms fall to his sides. It’s the first time they’ve seen each other in almost a year, but there’s still a war going on. Seamus offers him a quirked smile, and then winces, raising a hand to his bruised cheek. Bile rises in Dean’s throat.

“ _What happened?_ ” he hisses. He wishes he still had his wand so he can smooth those bruises away. But even more than that, he wants to hunt down whoever hurt Seamus and make them hurt ten times as much. A hundred times.

“Later,” Seamus says, his eyes still managing to flash despite how puffy they are. “Come on.” He leads the way over to Neville and the others. The door opens behind them and more people come through: the Weasley twins, Lee Jordan, Ginny… Dean feels his heart clench briefly at the sight of her shining face, but she’s smiling at Harry and Dean lets the feeling pass. At least she’s not a battered mess like Seamus.

Suddenly Dean tunes into what Harry is saying. Harry, their chosen one, _the_ chosen one, is protesting Neville bringing them here, saying there’s no plan, and he isn’t staying. Dean feels disoriented. What are they here for if not to help?

“We’re fighting aren’t we?” he interrupts Harry. He holds up his DA Galleon. “The message said Harry was back, and we were going to fight! I’ll have to get a wand, though — ”

“You haven’t got a _wand_ – ?” Seamus says, startled.

“Later,” Dean mutters at him. Seamus, looking wry, shakes his head.

They listen to Harry, but they’ve never heard of Ravenclaw’s lost diadem. And it still doesn’t make any sense that Harry wants to know about legends of the Founders instead of making a plan of attack on the Death Eaters running Hogwarts. Seamus fidgets beside him, and Dean doesn’t blame him. He’s been waiting for this for weeks. He wants to shout at Harry and the others. _Let’s put an end to it once and for all!_ But they have to trust the trio acting on Dumbledore’s orders.

Harry leaves with Luna for the Ravenclaw common room, and not long afterward Hermione and Ron depart as well, murmuring excitedly about… bathrooms? Dean shakes his head.

“They’ll be back,” Seamus says. He’s been watching Dean’s face with uncharacteristic calm, which at another time might have made Dean feel embarrassed, but he’s too angry and annoyed just now to bother. “Come on, Dean. I want to show you something.”

Dean follows him across the room, the Weasley twins’ jokes echoing in his ears. Members of the Order of the Phoenix are coming through from the Hogshead now which makes Dean feel a bit better. Battle is obviously on the horizon. _Good_ , Dean thinks. _One way or another, we’ll end this war here tonight_.

Suddenly he realizes that Seamus is leading him to a door.

“Where are we going?” he asks, looking back at the rest of the room. He can see the open door to the Hogshead passage and also the door Luna and Harry took to leave. So what’s this…?

Seamus holds a finger to his lips and pulls the door open, ducking inside before Dean can protest. Cautiously, he follows, having to stoop a bit so as not to hit his head on the narrow door frame.

“Neville isn’t the only one who can manipulate this place,” Seamus says. He closes the door behind Dean who straightens and looks around the small room. It’s like the Gryffindor common room in miniature. There’s a pair of cushioned armchairs siting in front of a fireplace, a table between them holding parchment, quills, and ink. The walls are lined with shelves packed with books and knick-knacks that look strangely familiar. Dean sees West Ham’s crest on a snow globe and moves to take a closer look.

“We needed a place where we could take turns being alone,” Seamus continues. “We’ve all gone through… some stuff. So I thought of this room. Usually there’s only one chair, but I’ve never come in here with another person before.”

Deans sets the snow globe back on the shelf and glances at Seamus. The other boy’s face is red beneath his bruises.

“Thoughtful of you,” Dean says. He gestures towards the chairs. Seamus sinks into one like he’s grateful for the invitation. Dean crouches in front of him and holds out his hand. “Give me your wand,” he says softly.

Seamus’s hand shakes as he passes over his wand, but he laughs it off. “Wouldn’t be surprised if I had some nerve damage after all this.” He gestures vaguely at his wounds. Dean smiles, but doesn’t comment. Wordlessly, he performs the healing spells Ted Tonks taught him in the woods last autumn. Seamus’s wand responds slowly but well enough, and soon most of his friend’s bruises have lightened and his swelling is down. When he’s done, Dean sets the wand on the table and examines his handiwork. Seamus glances at him and then away again.

“You’re pretty good at that,” he says, and this time Dean can hear the forced composure in his voice. “Would’ve been nice to have you around this year.”       

“I wish I had been here,” Dean replies. He wishes he could do more now; Seamus’s nose has obviously been broken more than once, but it’s been too long to hope that it will ever been quite as straight again. “Don’t any of you know _Episkey_?”

Seamus laughs again, but it’s a small sound. “It would’ve been nice to have you around for more than that, you know.”

Dean straightens. “Why’d you bring me here, Seamus?” he asks, frowning. “Shouldn’t we be making plans with…?”

He stops talking. Seamus has grabbed hold of his wrist.

“Don’t go.” It’s a whisper, choked out as though it pains him.

Dean’s heart seizes in his chest. For some reason, he’s thinking about that day in the woods with the Snatchers. Blood on the snow. Dirk Cresswell screaming. Ted’s wide eyes.

“I’m…” he starts to say. But he has to stop and swallow hard. He notices a pitcher of pumpkin juice on the table that he was fairly certain wasn’t there before. He swallows again, and manages to look at Seamus this time. Seamus, not the woods or his murdered companions. “I’m not going,” he says at last.

Seamus nods. He releases Dean’s wrist, but covers his face with his hands before Dean can read his expression.

“ ‘m sorry.” Seamus’s voice is muffled. “Sorry,” he says again. And something that sounds like _so messed up_.

Dean’s knees are shaking. He tries to remember what Luna tells him when he can’t breathe. _It’s only for a little while. It won’t last forever._ Slowly, he pours two glasses of the juice. He pushes one to the edge of the table closest to Seamus before sitting down in the other chair. By the time he’s drained his glass, the shaking has stopped.

Seamus’s hands fall into his lap. He stares at his open palms with his head down, but Dean doesn’t miss the way his chest hitches when he draws a breath. He’s not sure what to do; should he say something?

The funny thing to him is how none of this is surprising. The war has turned the world upside down. A year ago, Dean would’ve expected to be greeted with the back-slapping hug – and scoffed at the silent clinging need that had followed. He would’ve expected Seamus to talk his ear off about everything he had missed – and been horrified at even the thought of this awkward tear-stained silence. But after everything that has happened to him (and he does not want to even think about what Seamus might have been through), he expected this reunion to be strained. It wasn’t like they could laugh about the torture of children or being hunted like animals over mugs of butterbeer in the Great Hall.

“It’s okay,” he tells Seamus finally. The other boy jerks a little, his hands clenching into fists. Dean continues. “I’m glad you thought up this place actually. It was next to impossible to be alone at Shell Cottage. I bet it’s nice to have a place to think.” He refrains from asking Seamus what he’s been thinking about in this glorified closet for the past few weeks.

Seamus takes a deep breath and proceeds to answer the question anyway – as though he’d read Dean’s mind. Dean forgot how Seamus can do that without warning.

“It was because of you actually,” he says. And then the words pour out in a rush; the dam finally broken. “This year has been such a nightmare. With Snape and the Carrows. And my mother writing once a week begging me to come home. Seeing deaths of people we know in _The Prophet_ and then the ones we only hear about on the wireless. And all this time I’ve been reading and listening and waiting to hear something about _you_ and hearing nothing… I…” He makes a slashing motion in the air, and then looks up at Dean finally, his eyes hard, his cheeks burning scarlet. “I’ve barely been living here, Dean, wondering where you are and if you’re okay or not. Every day I wake up and I have to remind myself to keep going, to keep waiting, that no news is good news, and I…”

He looks like he’s either going to dissolve into tears or else jump up and punch Dean in the mouth for leaving him alone.

“I can’t do that anymore,” Seamus says flatly. “I can’t lose you again.”

Dean’s breath catches.

“What… what do you mean?” he manages. “I’m right here.” He even accomplishes a little laugh. “I’m not going anywhere.” But he thinks he knows exactly what Seamus means. Why is he so scared of this? This shouldn’t be the thing that terrifies him.

Seamus leaps to his feet. “Why do you always have to make everything so difficult?” He’s almost shouting. He points at Dean. “And how are you so calm? We could _die_ out there tonight, Dean, don’t you get that?”

“Of course, I do,” Dean replies, rolling the empty juice glass between his hands. “I almost died on several occasions over the last year after all.”

“Don’t tell me that!” Seamus cries. He snatches up his wand and holds it like he’s about to start a duel. Sparks burst from it in a cascade of gold and silver, but Seamus seems unaware of them. He’s looking wildly at Dean as the sparks fall and singe the carpet.

“I almost died,” Dean repeated. “But I didn’t. I left my family behind and evaded the Snatchers and the Death Eaters and I spent weeks stuck in a cottage where I couldn’t contact anyone because it was the safest place to be even though I knew everyone here at Hogwarts was suffering. I knew _you_ were here, enduring it.” He grimaces, looking around the room again. “I hoped you were enduring it.”

Seamus’s expression shatters. “How can you…” He gulps and tries again. “Dean, I _needed_ …” He spins around, his shoulders shaking violently. Dean realizes his mistake at once and stands up.

“Seamus, no, I didn’t mean to imply anything. I’m just terrible at this.” He reaches out to touch the other boy’s arm. “I don’t know how to say any of this.”

Seamus tenses.

“I’ll try though,” Dean goes on. “Maybe you won’t believe me, but I missed you every single day. I had no idea what was going on here. When I saw your face back there, I wanted to kill whoever did that to you. I still do. I didn’t know. I thought… I don’t know. I kept thinking of you when I was on the run, here at Hogwarts, safe. I thought you were safe. If I hadn’t, I would’ve been here in a heartbeat, Snatchers be damned. You were supposed to be safe.”

“So were you,” Seamus whispers in a hollow voice. “None of this is supposed to be happening.”

“Seamus, look at me, won’t you?” Dean pleads.

With a sigh, Seamus turns around. His eyes are wet when he looks up.

“We’re here now,” Dean says. “Both standing.”

“For how long?” Seamus asks bitterly.

“Seamus…” Dean’s tone softens. Before he can stop himself, he’s brushing the tears from Seamus’s freckled cheeks, and offering him a smile more rueful than comforting. “Why did you bring me here?” he asks again.

There is a sharp inhale. Rapid blinking. And then Seamus grabs him by the collar of his shirt and yanks him forward, covering Dean’s mouth with his own. The kiss is a wild desperate thing, tasting of salt and blood, and when Seamus releases him, Dean staggers back a step.

“You’re so stupid sometimes,” Seamus mutters.

“Yeah,” Dean says, dazed. “Well, you’re a whole school year ahead of me now, so…”

“Shut up, Dean.” Seamus rests his forehead against Dean’s chest. “Just shut up.”

Dean shuts up. Tentatively, he brings his arms around Seamus, pulling him closer. In the space of a heartbeat, they’re pressed together, swaying slightly, their hands splayed against each other’s backs.

“I didn’t know it was going to be like this,” Seamus says, and Dean can feel his breath hot against his collarbone.

“Like what?” he murmurs back. He buries his face in the crook of Seamus’s neck, and Seamus clutches him tighter.

“I didn’t know I needed you this much,” Seamus says. “That every day without you would feel like… like…”

Dean waits, but Seamus can’t seem to complete the thought. But Dean knows. He knows because he’s felt it too: the sharp, nagging worry, the constant disquiet, the wordlessly aching need. It feels like falling slowly toward a black hole. Being pulled into the silent dark. At first, he’d thought it must be the anxiety from being forced to go on the run. And then he’d thought it was his grief and rage from what the Snatchers did. Of course it was Luna with her strange way of piercing to the heart of things who’d helped him see the whole truth.

He doesn’t want to feel that way anymore.

“I needed you too,” he whispers, and then he repeats himself with the fierceness that’s threatening to overwhelm him. He pulls back so he can look at Seamus as he starts to talk louder, faster. “But now we can stay together. We’ll protect each other. Neither of us will ever have to feel that way again.”

Seamus is staring at him, open-mouthed. Dean wonders if that was too much, if this is too fast. Had he misunderstood? But no, Seamus is the one who kissed him…

He tilts his head as his thoughts spin webs of doubt around him. They’ve never talked about any of this, even though Dean is sure Seamus has been flirting with him since they were First Years. But Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to jeopardize their friendship when he was old enough to realize he might be flirting back. He started dating Ginny instead of dealing with his own feelings. And it was easy to fall in love with her, too easy to escape into the bright circle of her light, away from the uncertainty that was Seamus and his crooked smile. He’d been devastated when she broke up with him, doubly so when she immediately started dating Harry instead. But he’d barely had time to process that hurt before Dumbledore died and the world turned upside down. He’d barely had time to consider what the consequences of not returning to Hogwarts would be beyond saving his own skin. He’d barely had time to consider his best friend.

“Stop that.”

Seamus’s words lance through his thoughts. Startled, Dean opens his mouth to ask what he means, but Seamus shakes his head.

“You’re thinking yourself into a mess, aren’t you? Don’t do that, Dean. That’s my job.”

Dean laughs. A short laugh of relief.

“We’ll protect each other,” Seamus says after a moment. Suddenly he seems shy. He presses one of his hands into Dean’s. Their fingers intertwine naturally, as though they’ve held hands every day instead of this being the first time. Dean can feel his heart pounding in his ears.

“Yeah,” he says. “We will.”

This time the kiss starts gently. And then Seamus leans into it, and Dean gathers him close, remembering all the nights he dreamed about this. But the reality of Seamus’s lips, of the length of his body pressed hard against him, is so much better than any fantasy he’d concocted. He lets go of Seamus’s hand so that he can bury his fingers in the other boy’s hair, tilting their heads together to deepen the kiss.

Has he ever wanted anything as badly as he wants to live in this moment forever?

Seamus’s hands roam down Dean’s sides, before settling on his hips. Seamus pulls him forward by the belt loops so that no space is left between them. Dean tries to stifle his groan and fails. Seamus lets his hands do some more roaming and Dean stops caring about pretenses.

He quietly revises which moment he wants to live in forever.

Knocking breaks into their brief escape from reality. They hear a voice on the other side of the door.

“Hey Seamus! Harry’s back. We’re going to fight! Get out here!”

“Okay, Neville!” Seamus calls back in what Dean thinks is a surprisingly normal tone of voice. Because the boy in his arms is flushed, his hair mussed, his eyes bright.

“Seamus,” Dean says. He is still breathing hard, and his lips feel swollen. “I can’t go out there yet. I’ve got to…” He falters, apparently still capable of embarrassment.

Seamus grabs him by the back of his neck and pulls him into another long exploratory kiss.

“Not helping,” Dean moans when Seamus breaks off with a grin. “Ugh, I feel light-headed.”

“Me too,” Seamus says. “Maybe we should sit down for a minute.” He steers Dean toward a chair and they sink into it together, Seamus straddling Dean’s hips. They touch foreheads, their arms looped around each other.

For a blissful minute they sit together like this, staring into each other’s eyes, saying everything they’ve been longing to say without ever opening their mouths. For that minute, the outside world and all of its woes cease to exist. There is only the two of them, together at last, each understanding that the other won’t leave him willingly ever again. And that will make all the difference.

“Seamus!” Neville knocks on the door again.

This time Dean and Seamus open it together.

 

     

 

 

 

 

 

 

      


End file.
